


What Historians Doesn't Tell Us

by cocothegreat



Category: History - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocothegreat/pseuds/cocothegreat
Summary: Not all parts of the history are told by historians. Sometimes they are told by the silent whispers of the wind.





	

What Historians Doesn’t Tell Us

This is what everyone knows: the history is what the historians tell us. But have you ever thought about what the historians could’ve tell us but decided against it? What if they matter more than they seemed to be? Rake your brain about the possible happenings in the past. Things that they know we should know but are too afraid to tell us. Because, after all, what is scarier than the truth itself?  
On the night before Dr. Rizal was persecuted, it was reported that around 9:30PM he was visited by the fiscal of the Royal Audiencia of Manila, Don Gaspar Cestaño. But after that, all we hear are rumors. Who did he spent his last night with? None other than his lawyer and dearest friend at the moment: Luis Taviel de Andrade.  
“Aren’t you afraid?” the older man asked.  
He was confused, of course. And more than anything else, nervous. His dear friend is going to die in few hours. But the man himself doesn’t look bothered at all.  
“I am not, in any way, afraid, Señor.” Dr. Rizal drew a pen from his pocket and reached for the older man’s right hand.  
Taviel de Andrade closed his fist. He doesn’t want to show his friend that he was scared for him even though it was obvious. The least he can do is make up a front. Act strong. As long as he can. Because what a brave can do, right? “W…what?” he stammered as Dr. Rizal tried, as softly as he could, opening his palm. “I’m so sorry my dear friend but I can’t do this anymore.” So he stood up and looked away. He can’t even bare to look at his friend.  
“What can’t you do, Señor?” Dr. Rizal would’ve laughed. But somehow he can’t. He can feel his heart hammering from his chest and his sweaty palms are not helping. Despite the cold air that embraces his cell, he feels hot. And he could’ve sworn that the older man feels the same.  
“I can’t let you die.” Luis Taviel de Andrade said. Dr. Rizal’s breath hitched. He tried to mask it with a cough but before he can even compose his self, the man who swore that will do everything to save him is looking at him intently. As if there were fire in his eyes. So he did what he should’ve done a long time ago. He pressed his palms in the older man’s cheeks.  
“But I am ready to go,” Dr. Rizal’s voice maybe low and stern—probably hard to understand. But if you spent enough time with him, you don’t need to hear his voice loud and clear. Because it was no longer your senses that feel him. It was you. Your heart. And that’s what Luis Taviel de Andrade every single time the younger man speaks. “I will do this for my countrymen. And my country that I have dearly loved.”  
He let go of the man’s face but he held his hand tightly and lead him to his bed. Dr. Rizal pulled out his pen again and asked the older man to open his palms. “Your palms are humongous, Señor. If I can live longer then I would’ve write more poems in it.” And so he began writing one.  
You held my hand  
when no one else wanted to.  
And for that  
I will love always love you.  
Our love affair is less than a day long  
But I will always remember this  
even after this lifetime.  
Luis Taviel de Andrade couldn’t believe at what Dr. Rizal just wrote in his palms. “Te quiero mucho.” He whispered against the younger man’s ear. Because nothing is sweeter than saying you love a person in the language you grew up in.   
Dr. Rizal let out a soft laugh. It was sweet and sad at the same time. “I feel the same.” And tears began falling in his eyes that Andrade had learned to love in such a short period of time.  
They say that stars are made for us so we will have a guide in the darkest of nights. What they don’t say is that real stars are behind someone else’s eyes. Because people can see, stars can’t. Our real guide are people. Not the stars. “Te amo, Señor.” He whispered over and over against Andrade’s ears. “I wish I was able to tell you that before.”  
As Dr. Rizal does that, Luis Taviel the Andrade just keeps on reading what the younger man has written in his palms. And maybe out of all the poems that Jose Protacio Rizal Mercado y Alonso Realonda had made, this one is his favorite. And his words will always live. Even after this lifetime.  
He tried memorizing every part of him. Tomorrow he will die. But he will die great. But the flame that they have for each other… that will never die. So he held the younger man in his arms while trying to sooth him like a child. “Even after this lifetime.” He whispered.  
And just when he thought that his love is already asleep, he managed to surprise the older man again just like what he always did. “Even after this lifetime.”  
People come and go during Dr. Rizal’s last moments in this world. But he’s already longing for a certain someone. Not even his dear wife, Josephine. She is dear, indeed. But she isn’t Luis Taviel de Andrade. She isn’t his love.  
He remembered Leonor Rivera. He used to think that she is his forever love. Then came other women and Josephine Bracken. He had loved her. He swore that he did. But Luis Taviel de Andrade… he is love. When he thought that he was able to define love, Andrade changed everything. He defined love for Dr. Rizal.  
So when he was standing in front of so many people and guns are pointed towards his direction, he couldn’t think of anything—or anyone else. Historians told us that it was his endless for the country that he was thinking about. But they lied. They knew what he was thinking about. Because Luis Taviel de Andrade saw it himself: Dr. Rizal whispered Te Amo in his direction before he was shot. He had written it in his book of laws. He had also written Rizal’s poem for him. And the historians found the book. But they never told us that. They will never tell us the truth.  
What historians tell us: Dr. Rizal’s love for our country and countrymen, his love for his family, his incomparable love affairs… with women, and his bravery.  
What historians doesn’t tell us: not all the great love affairs are between a man and a woman. Not all heroes are brave.  
Dr. Rizal might have been brave. But not brave enough to live for his love. What we don’t know? He was scared to die. But he would rather die because he was afraid that they will kill him, too. And of course he wanted to save his countrymen. More than anything else, however, he wanted to save him. And what a love can do to you but make you selfish? Not everyone will understand but maybe when you have a love like Dr. Rizal and Luis Taviel de Andrade, you will.


End file.
